


The Haunted Halls of Villeneuve Castle

by noblewriting



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: (wheeze), Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-02-25 23:34:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13223574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblewriting/pseuds/noblewriting
Summary: Things sure are quiet around this abandoned French castle. But there have been reports of an unusual specter, shaped like a monster, walking the halls......Good thing the boys are back in town.Honestly, so many fucking apologies to Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara.





	1. Tinkle the Keys

_“What was that?!”_

“It’s a tree, Ryan. There are trees outside. And wind.”

“No, dude! The candle—it _moved_ —”

“It moved?” Shane’s laughter rippled through the palace, relaxed and happy. The sound bounced off the furniture in every empty room. “Buddy, you’ve got to calm down.”

“Fuck you.” Ryan fiddled with his instruments: the Go-Pro, the spirit box, the microphone. “Let’s get into the history of this place.”

“Please.” Shane’s eyes wandered up to the ceiling. Gold curlicues gleamed back at him. “Man. This place is beautiful.”

Coughing, Ryan slid into his professional voice. Shane, sighing, used his flashlight to make shadow puppets on the wall behind him.

“ _Villeneuve Castle, though once one of the most regal palaces in Europe during the Enlightenment, now is said to be the home of one of the most frightening ghosts in the world: partly because this ghost is **not human**_.”

“What do you mean, not human? All of our ghosts are not human.”

“I mean he’s not a person, you idiot.”

“He—what? Do we have a ghostly toaster oven in here?”

“Just wait. _Said to be **seven feet tall** and **covered in fur,** this ghost wanders the halls of the palace at night, crying out about some mysterious **bells**. Oddly, no **bells** or **bell-towers** have been found **anywhere in the area.**_ ”

“They must have had some bell-towers. In, like, a church, you know?”

“That’s the part you’re gonna focus on here?”

“Oh. Yeah. So we have a beastie-boy ghost?” Shane’s flashlight lit up a rotten harpsichord, standing on the outside patio. “Oh, that’s nice. We can play some tunes.”

“Some _tunes_?”

“A little jazz medley. Do you think the ghosts would like Thelonious Monk?”

“I can’t—I _cannot_ believe you.”

“Oh wow, there’s a closet out here too. Were they going to host a garage sale?”

“Unbelievable. Anyway, so there’s a monster ghost here, and— _WHAT WAS THAT._ ”

Shane peered up from the harpsichord, his lean face grinning. 

“Jesus, Ryan, I’m allowed to tinkle the keys.”

“You’re playing the harpsichord?! That thing is like 200 years old!”

“You just have no appreciation for antiques.” Shane set his flashlight down and tried a few more notes. “I love this place. It’s so weird.”

“Ok, well—ugh. _Though reports are unclear, it is likely the ghost appeared around the turn of the eighteenth century, when a mob came to the palace_.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why the mob?” Shane reached back for his flashlight, but it bounced off the edge of the footstool and went rolling off through the dark, flickering in and out. 

“A witch-hunt, I think. It’s really unclear—there’s historical evidence this was a royal palace, with like a prince in it, but then there’s suddenly all these shocked people marching to the gates, wielding torches, and then there’s a seven foot tall ghost with paws.”

“Trouble with the research this week?” Shane’s flashlight really didn’t want to stop rolling. It was going right off the edge of the terrace—and with a sick clunk, it did, smashing as it hit the ground of an old, dead rose garden. Two ghost investigators stared down at shattered glass and broken batteries. 

“Aw, man.”

“I guess your flashlight’s gonna have to do for both of us.”

“What?! No! What if it goes out?”

“The ghost eats us?”

“No. No no no. No way.” Ryan’s eyes flicked through the wreckage on the patio. There sure was a lot of garbage out here—the harpsichord, the wardrobe, the clock, the hatstand. Even a feather-duster, as if someone intended to clean this mess. And next to the duster—“Hey! Hey. There’s a candelabra. We could light that.”

“It still has wax?” Shane stooped down to it. Ryan could swear, just for a second, that something on it moved—but no, candelabras didn’t have faces, and anyway, no one said that objects haunted the palace. There was a distinct lack of mention of the objects. In fact, thinking back on the research, there was a distinct lack of mention of any of this.

Seriously. It was like the whole world had forgotten this place existed.

Ryan suspected a conspiracy.

“Just light it, ok, and let’s get going. They say the most haunted section is the West Wing.”

“Oooh.” Shane, ever the boy scout, had got out his matches and lit the candelabra. Again, Ryan thought he saw a face—but nonono, not yet, he won’t freak out just yet. 

They wander into the dark, dark castle. The EVP picks up a whisper, somewhere, like a song. There’s something— _there_ — 

A shadow moves behind them, and the candles flicker in Shane’s hands.


	2. Something There

A dark hallway. Two boys. A candlestick. 

“There’s something there that…wasn’t there before,” Ryan muttered. He _felt_ it. Every hair on the back of his neck was upright. Something here was spooky.

“All right! I’m waiting for it!“ Shane held the candle higher. “Hey! Ghost! Give us a nice snarl. A little, I don’t know, a meow.”

“He wasn’t a _cat_.”

“You weren’t picturing a cat?”

“He had _horns_!”

“Wow. Ok, ghost, show me what you got! Show me a—”

Next to him, Ryan Bergara collapsed.

“AAAAAA _AAAAAGH_.”

“What the fuck?”

“I—I had the heat sensor on—” Ryan waved it. Something orange glowed on the screen. “And—and I got some—I saw—”

“Where?”

“Next to you.” Ryan turned it back to Shane’s face. “Aaagh! It’s still there!”

“That’s me, you tiny idiot.”

“No! Next to you! There’s a _face_ on the _heat sensor_ —”

“Ryan, I am holding a candlestick. They tend to give off heat.”

“Oh!…..oh.”

Shane looked down at Ryan. Ryan looked up at Shane.

“Thank god.”

“Your heart’s booming right now, isn’t it?” 

“How are you never afraid of this stuff?” 

Shane brushed him off as he sat up. The candle flickered, clearly not alive, clearly not a ghost. Just a little flame of heat in all this darkness. 

“Where to now?”

“I thought we could head to the most haunted room, maybe by way of the library. And maybe use the spirit box along the way.”

“Use the fu—ok, fine. Ghosts, come talk through the angry science box.”

“It’s real science.”

Shane raised his voice, gestured with the candlestick. “O spirits that walk the earth! _Commune_ with us! Tear our flesh from our bones! Walk your kitty-cat paws across our toes. Please. Destroy us. Be our guest.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m just trying to make them feel welcome.”

Two boys went back into the dark. Somewhere behind them, a paw creaked against the floor.


	3. I Hear You're Pretty Horny

“Ok, so I do two minutes, then you do two minutes.” Ryan’s hand hovered on the grayed, gilded doorknob. 

“Yup.” 

‘How does this not scare you at all?!”

“Ryan, we’re in a library. If I get bored, I’ll read some Nancy Drew.”

“You _fucking_ —” 

The door shut before he could finish. Ryan was alone. 

The library hadn’t aged well. Crumbling papers—probably books, once, from a king’s collection—sat on the shelves. Old, dead candles made little white specters against the gloom. It was hard to see the windows, caked with dust as they were.

And it was so _very_ dark. 

“I’m—I’m speaking to the specter that walks this hall.” Ryan coughed. Dust was everywhere. “I hear—I hear that you’re pretty horny—oh god this is _terrible_ —”

On the other side of the door, Shane shook with silent laughter.

“Do you, I’m gonna be quiet for a couple minutes. Can you speak to me? Maybe say something—I don’t know if you can speak, but like….growl. Oh god, don’t do that.”

“He always thinks he’s not going to talk to it,” Shane informed the candelabra. He had made friends with the candelabra. Someone had sculpted a little face into it—really clever—and Shane had privately named it Gerald. 

On the other side of the closed door, in the middle of a very dark room, Ryan pursed his lips and widened his eyes and tried not to be afraid.

Nothing moved. The audio recorder didn’t pick up the faintest whisper. No monster roamed this hall.

In the next room, a lullaby began to chime. 

“Holy shit holy _shit_ —”

“You ok in there buddy?”

“Get in here! Get in here right goddamn now!”

A lanky form peered round the poor. Shane and Gerald had arrived. “What, did a book rustle atcha?”

_“Do you hear the fucking—”_

“Oh yeah.” The briefest of pauses. “Huh.”

“The fucking—the _bells_ —jesus, man!”

“Should we check it out?”  

“ _No!_ —You go first.”

The library extended into another room. This one was just as terrible as the first—dusty books scattered off the shelves, a disused globe rotting away. An atlas on the table was still, somehow, in fine shape—but Ryan didn’t try to touch it, because there was the music-box, in the middle of the floor. 

“Who the _fuck_ —”

The music-box played on, tiny bells chiming in the dark. Not any tune they knew, but it was an old one, and a sad one. Ryan’s hands were shaking.

And at this moment, their audio recorder picked up a voice. _  
_


	4. Intermission: Back At The Studio

* * *

 

“I hear ‘ _lashfhh_ _fahhhehheh_.” Shane sipped his tea. It was weeks after their visit to Villeneuve Castle, and things were quiet around the Buzzfeed office. He’d been busy coming up with a new addition to the Hot Daga when Ryan called him into this recording booth, in a panic, as usual. “That could be your shoes, Ryan.”

“ _Shoes_?! That sounds like _shoes_ to you?!” 

“Yeah.” 

Ryan stared at him. Stared at the camera. Stared back at him. Played the clip again.

“Look, I know you heard it ‘in the moment,’ but you know what I heard? Wind. Lots of wind.”

“There are two separate sentences!”

“Okay, tell me what _you_ think it says.”

“Exactly what I thought it said the first time!”

* * *

 


	5. Never Die

In the dark castle library, Ryan found his whole body shaking. Kneeling next to the music box, he could have sworn he had heard the faint sound of a woman speaking right beside him. 

“You ok? It’s drafty in here.” 

“I…..this is crazy, but something just whispered at me.” He jumped. “Holy shit! Holy shit, who—”

Shane was laughing. “I love this.”

“Someone! A woman just whispered in my ear—holy _shit_ —!”

“Ok, ok, calm down—Ryan!”

“Get the fuck out of here,” muttered Ryan, backing away from the music box. “I’m getting the fuck out of here—dude, you didn’t hear it?”

“Hear what?”

“ She said, like, ‘ _Last forever!_ ’ And ‘ _Never die!_ ’”

“Jesus, what a gothic ghost—” 

“I don’t fucking care if it’s gothic, I don’t care if it wants to do a little dance, I am getting _out_ of here—”

Ten minutes later, Ryan and Shane sat on the floor of one of the palace’s upper rooms, leaned up against a bed. With a little time for his hysteria to die down, Ryan had decided against leaving the castle entirely. But nothing in heaven or hell could get him to go back to the library. 

“Why would it say ‘ _last forever_ ’ and ‘ _never die_ ’?”

“Ryan, I don’t know, it decided it wanted to do some creepy shit? Like _‘oOhh, i knows what’ll get ‘em, i’ll say nonsense words_.’“ Shane croaked it out in a dumb voice. The candelabra next to him flickered. 

Ryan laughed, mimicking him back. “ _‘ooOOoh, i heard this fucker likes GHOSTS. i’ll show ‘im ghosts!_ ‘”

Shane threw his head back and laughed. “Maybe it was just looking for synonyms for being undead. _‘lasts forever,_ ’ uh, ‘ _never die_ ,’ uhhh….’ _not totally bones_ ’….”

Wheezing. “ _Not totally bones_! Is that your band name?”

“Yeah, Madej and the Not Totally Bones.”

The room was ringing with their laughter. Just out of range of the camera’s glare, a shadow twitched and tensed upon the bed. White eyes stared at the dark.

Shane wiped tears from his eyes, and Ryan rocked backward with glee. 

The shadow faded.

“What I still don’t get,” said Ryan, “is why it was a _woman’s_ voice. There aren’t any women in the story.”

“Not any—? Ryan, that’s sexist.”

“No! I mean like…here, just read what I wrote up.”

“Read it in your theory voice. It’ll make you feel better.”

“You asshole,” said Ryan, still smiling, and dropped right into it. “ _Before the castle was destroyed, the region was ruled by a prince who everyone described as **completely unlovabl**_ **e**.”

“Ouch.”

“He was an asshole. _Our research shows no sign of what happened to him, but he apparently **never married** , nor earned **anyone’s love at all**_ **.** ”

“Earned anyone’s….? You really went on a poetic streak this week.”

“Eh, you know, castles, gotta try.” 

Shane glanced around the room as Ryan read from his phone. “What about lady servants?”

“I mean, I guess, but there’s no historical record of them. It’s like they were wiped out of time.”

“If you say aliens—”

“I _wish_ I could say aliens just to see the look on your dumb face.”

“I could go for some tea right now.” Shane picked up Gerald and headed over to the window. A dusty moonbeam puddled on the floor. 

“I just don’t think it was a servant. It felt, I don’t now, chilling, like she was trappe—dude, what are you looking at over there?”

“Oh, it’s cool,” Shane said casually, and gestured to the floor. “There’s a pentagram here.”


	6. Say Orbs And I'll Murder You

“You idiot, that’s not a pentagram.”

“Oh, it isn’t?” Shane stood back. Ryan, at his side, shone his flashlight across the floor.

“No. It’s like, I don’t know, a flower?”

Shane surveyed the scrawl, carved through the dust and stone of the bedroom floor. “It’s a rose.”

“How’re you so sure?”

“It’s—it’s a rose, Ryan.”

The two stared in silence at it. The moonlight was very thin and gray. 

* * *

 

**_At this moment, our camera  
_ **

**_picks up what looks like a  
_ **

**_ghostly flower_ **

**_floating above the rose.  
_ **

**_(laughs ) Oh my god, Ryan.  
_ **

**_Look at it! Right there—_ **

**_That’s dust, Ryan.  
_ **

**_No! Look, there are a couple—look,  
_ **

**_I don’t want to say orbs—_ **

**_Say orbs and I’ll murder you  
_ **

**_right where you stand. Sit.  
_ **

**_Sure fine, but it looks like petals  
_ **

**_floating down, right?  
_ **

**_(unintelligible) Ok, sure, fine.  
_ **

**_Are we done here?_ **

* * *

 “I think we should use the spirit box here.”

“Oh…..ok.” Shane sighed. “All right. I’ll just….”

His next words were drowned out by the screeching of the box.

“Holy— _shit_! It’s going—” _  
_

Shane looked out the window. There was a beautiful balcony outside; he could see the shattered remains of what must have been a bridge between two towers a little ways away. It looked dramatic. Beautiful. The scene of some great romance.

The spirit box screamed. 

“Can you hear me? Can anyone hear me?” Ryan leaned down to the box, adjusting channel speed. “Can you say my name? Ryan and Shane. Can you say Ryan and Shane?”

_“Come—back—”_

Ryan’s head whipped up. Shane looked down.

_“Come—back—”_

“She repeated it?” Ryan’s eyes were wide. Shane’s eyebrows lifted. 

_“Please—no—come back—”_

“Oh my god, oh my _god_ —”

Ryan, walking in circles, didn’t see the shadow on the wall. Shane, hands outstretched to calm down Ryan, didn’t see the white eye flicker and close. 

The woman’s voice shot through the box like arrows, sharp and panicked. 

_“Don’t leave me—”_

“Who are you?” Ryan yelled at the box. “Can you give us a name?”

Fainter, now. Static nearly drowned it. _“I’m coming back for you…beast….”_

“ _Beast_?!” Ryan yelped. _  
_

At this moment, Shane’s shoes squeaked. No one heard the whisper in the dark, calling back to the woman in the spirit box.  It was too faint.

“ _Belle_ …”


	7. In Case You Need Reason To Kill Him

Ryan’s research notes glowed faintly on his phone. The spirit box was quiet.

“Nope. Nothing about a woman. Just the ghost talking about bells. And the ghost is _definitely_ male.”

“And a monster, oooh.” Shane climbed up to the balcony, looking around. If he leaned over right, he could see the terrace down below, the one where they dropped the flashlight. “Hey, Spirit of the Black Lagoon, wanna explain things?”

“Shut up.”

“Write a lil treatise about it on the wall? Breathe it down Ryan’s neck.”

“But she was _talking_ to it—even _you_ have to admit that’s weird.” 

“Look, ok, maybe I can’t explain everything.” Shane wandered back over to Ryan, who was sitting on the engraved rose, his legs sprawled off its little platform. Why was there a platform in the middle of the room for no reason? Why was there a rose scrawled on it? Crazy rococo architects. He could see marks in the dust here, like there had been an actual table right on top of it, but then some idiot got rid of the actual purpose for it and turned it into a little dais to nowhere. 

“And she sounded exactly like the ghost in the library—”

“Yeah, we’re having a lot of luck finding every ghost except the monster one.” Shane addressed his remarks to the candelabra. The candelabra didn’t talk back. Bummer.  

“Ok, this is gonna sound crazy, but—”

“Every theory of yours is crazy. You believe zombies ate the early settlers.” Shane looked back toward the shadows of the room. “He believes zombies ate the early settlers, by the way, ghost. In case you need reason to try to kill him.”

“No I don’t, no I—” Ryan looked back toward the shadows too. “No I don’t! That was just a theory, it was just a theory that I said—”

“Ghost’s laughing at you.”

“Oh my god, is it?” _Something_ was making a muffled noise from the back of the room. 

“No no no, it’s just the wind.”

Ryan kept looking toward the shadow. _Something_ had growled, in a low approximation of a laugh. 

“Ryan, come on. What was your crazy theory?”

He made himself look away from the darkness. Shane’s face was dim in the candlelight. “Maybe she—the voice on the box—was in love with him.”

The growling stopped. The lights went out.


	8. And A Bit Alarming

“Stop laughing.”

“I'm—I’m really trying—” 

“No you’re not. Shut up, Shane.” 

“Does this mean you finally, like you’re finally admitting Lizzie Borden and the Axeman had an affair?”

“Shut up.”

“Getting all your spooky little specters all matched up—it’s practically charming, Ryan.”

“Could you shut it?” 

“This is a waste of time. Can we explore more? Find the kitchens?”

“You’re not even going to _consider_ they might have, y’know, had a thing?”

“Ok, fine, Romeo and Juliet lived in this room, then Romeo became a spooky hairy monster. I love it. Kitchens?”

Ryan glanced back in the dark. He could swear he heard a gurgle, or a groan, or something _weird_ when Shane said _Romeo and Juliet_. “My flashlight won’t turn on.” 

“I’ve got the candle.” Shane’s match missed the wick, but the candle lit up anyway; a dim glow, lighting up his face. “Right, can we go?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

They wandered through other rooms, quiet. The audio flickered and moaned faintly.

“Look, don’t let it hang you up, ok?” said Shane. He ducked under a doorway. “The ghost wasn’t even French. She spoke English, right?”

“I mean, sure, yeah, but if she had said—”  

“ _’Bonjour, mon ami?’_ Oh, shit, that was bad.” 

“Way more Scottish than French.”

“I gotta channel somebody.” Shane held the candelabra higher. “Are you sure this is the way down?” 

“I mean, it’s a staircase, right?” 

“ _Look_ at this. Beautiful. Wow.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t like it. You don’t get a bad feeling here?”

Shane was distracted. “Holy shit, look at this.” 

There was furniture everywhere. Torn up, ripped apart, slashed and broken and battered. The front doors of the palace creaked open, letting in an icy wind. 

“Holy— _fuck_ , what were they doing?” Ryan’s flashlight flickered on. There was a trail of gunpowder across the floor. 

“Uh, kind of a lively game of musical chairs.”

“Oh! The mob, remember? Holy shit….they went to _town_.”

“I thought it was, uh, a quiet village.” Shane’s foot hit against scuffs on the floor. “Whoa, get a good shot of these….they must have dropped something from the upper stories! Like a closet. Or a piano.”

“That’s impossible…”

“Eh, you get angry enough. Don’t look so down in the dumps, Ryan, they’re all dead now.”

“That’s why I’m sad! It doesn’t make you sad? People probably _died_ here.” 

“Not a lot of dried blood. Looks like tea stains, though, under this chandelier…. Ooh! Do you think they were fighting the ghosts? With tea!”

“I cannot handle you. Stop smirking. Oh my god.”

“This fresh in, ghosts fight little town using tea and pianos. C’mon, they didn’t have anything else to do. No wild parties in the tavern Saturday nights.” Shane’s camera swung around, taking in the debris. Chipped tea saucers, black harpsichord keys, tiny white feathers, a gargoyle that looked like a ghost…..

“Do you smell roses?”

“Did you hear footsteps?”

“Holy shit, you heard them too?” 

“They sound like they’re in one of the towers. Wind, right?”

“I don’t know, but it’s new and alarming as fuck.”


	9. Fucking Exorcise This Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bitter end. Mostly bitter because I cannot BELIEVE there was an actual shoutout to Lumiere in "The Historic Disappearance of Louis Le Prince" and it shortened my lifespan by 235 years.

 “Ok, look, we’re safe here. I declare this safe space. Hey ghosts! Go…away.”

“What in hell’s name makes you think a ghost will listen to your ‘safe space’? Moving to another room isn’t going to fucking stop a ghost! Have you _never_ watched _any_ horror movies?”

“Ryan, we’re not in a horror movie, we’re in a romance. You said it yourself. Hey ghost,” Shane called out to the dark, “If you want to come back to our place afterward, we can get you and spook-girl in a threesome with the Goatman.”

“That! Is not! Helping!”

“Anyway, I think it’s fine we left the hallway, it looked awful anyway.” Shane’s neck craned up to check out the ceiling. “Holy shit, Ryan, look at this.”

“If you—fucking talk—about the _architecture_ one more time—”

“It’s a ballroom!” Shane was delighted. “Wow! Look at this. I need a frilly little wig and a, and a handkerchief.”

Ryan laughed. “Ok, but while you’re doing your little Mozart cosplay, I’m going to find a way to get us the fuck out of here.”

“Think of the _balls_ they must have had! Somebody playing that harpsichord out there, everybody swishing about, the— _ouch_ —”

“What?!” Ryan jumped.

“The candlestick just got really hot.” Shane waved his hand in the cool air. “Here, you take it for a minute.”

“Oh, fine, ok, just give me all your burning shit.” Ryan took the candelabra. “I can’t hold all this, you take the spirit box.”

“We could just leave it here,” Shane said hopefully. Running out of hands, he set the spirit box on the marbled floor. “Leave it to scream quietly to itself for evermore. Do you smell roses still?”

“No. But this has been some weird shit. I want to fucking exorcise this whole place, get whatever the fuck was here some eternal peace, and then never come back.”

_Come back,_ said the spirit box.

Ryan jumped. “Wha—did you turn that back on?”

_Of course I came back,_ said the spirit box.

“Shane. Did you turn that back on?”

Shane shook his head. The box whined, and sputtered, and cut out.

_I can’t see you,_ whispered the audio recorder.

“What the fuck—” Ryan ripped it off and tossed it on top of the spirit box.

“Ryan, maybe take the candle out of the draft, those flames are fucking high,” said Shane.

“There isn’t any draft,” said Ryan. The flames of the candelabra whipped and sputtered, nearly five inches high.

_I’ll never leave you again,_ said the spirit box. There was no static, no anything now; just a woman’s voice, choked with tears. The box’s lights flickered in the dust and the grime and the feathers drifting across the Villeneuve palace floor. _We’re together now. It’s going to be fine._

“That’s the bell, isn’t it,” Ryan whispered, staring wide-eyed at the spirit box. “The ‘bells’ the ghost is always talking about. That’s Belle. And she’s….she’s talking to the ghost.”

The audio recorder moaned, low and in pain. The spirit box, sobbing, sounded nearly hysterical. _Please, no, not like last time, not like when we…..I didn’t get to say it. Please come back. I love you._

The voice cut out. Shane and Ryan stood in an empty ballroom, looking down at two small instruments and their blinking, golden lights.

And then, starting at one end and slowly circling from one to the next, each candle on the wall lit with a golden glow.

“What the f—”

Each candle burst into flame, and the next picked it up. Shane was grinning with delight, watching as the wind stirred the chimes in the chandelier; and the whole palace seemed to shift, and turn, and hone in on this grand, forgotten room. In the center, the two instruments fizzed and sparked, their lights flickering on-off-on-on-on. They crackled and danced together in the center of the floor, sparking and burning; and around them a perfect circle of light illuminated the marble walls, and the golden filigree, and the shining windows looking out to the night sky. For a moment, Ryan thought he saw specters on the patio where the objects had been—a tall lady, a beautiful maid, a proper footman, a passionate musician, a smiling gentleman. And then he blinked, and they were gone, and the lights were gone, and the EVP and the spirit box lay empty on the floor, and it was still in the ballroom, and still in the palace, and still in the forest.

Something—maybe just the wind—sighed, happy, through the trees.

“Are we done here?” Shane said.

“If you think I’m going to sleep here after that, you’re wrong,” said Ryan. “I am _out_. Let’s grab the candle, leave the shit, I have back-up equipment, whatever, let’s _go_.”

“Oh, ok.” Shane laughed. “That didn’t weird you out, did it? It was just electrical feedback.”

“Just—?! Electrical _feedback_ —?!”

“I’ve seen stuff like that before.” He shrugged. “Hey, did you put the candelabra down?”

It wasn’t there now. “You _cannot_ say that was just bullshit, you can’t! It’s like, whatever was here, maybe it’s at some sort of peace now— _don’t you fucking look at me like that!_ ”

“Don’t hurt yourself.” They packed up their equipment, leaving the bones of the spirit box and the audio recorder behind. “I wouldn’t call it proof, that’s all. You feel like they’re at peace and waltzing through eternity together or whatever—it got warm in here, did you notice?—but it’s not certain, it’s not like the sun rising in the east or something.” Shane waved his hands, and stepped out onto the patio.

“Your ability to ignore what is right in front of your fucking eyes will never cease to astonish me.” Ryan walked down into the garden. Roses caught at his sleeves as he walked.

The sun was shining, bright, and it reflected off of Ryan’s camera lens. All the ice had vanished, and the dawn had come, and the air felt gentle and warm.  Flowers snaked across the garden path. The sun sparkled against the terrace and lit up the green forest, and the high, empty windows of the palace, and the turrets that had not looked so gold or gleaming when they had walked in. The sun was warm on their faces. Down in the garden, Ryan picked a rose.

“Would you look at that.” Shane smiled. “It feels like June out here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shane if you were reading this 1) end me 2) thank you for the fucking lumiere impression in that one ep 3) please post your opinions about the loch ness monster and set my mind to rest


End file.
